The Victorious
by Tokahlia
Summary: "History is written by the victors," is how the saying goes, but what about those who have lost? Naraku is dying but before he is sent to hell his life flashes before him. The story of the Shikon Jewel takes place through unfamiliar eyes.
1. Preface, Last Thoughts

AN - Before we begin I'd like to get my thank-yous out of the way. Thank you to Montacia (not on ff), who, by lecturing my nephew that by which side WWII was won by history has been written accordingly has inspired this story. Thanks for making me think about the other perspective. Thank you to all of you beautiful writers here on ffnet who got me back into the Inuyasha fan club after a year of apathy towards it. And most of all, thank you to you, dear readers for giving my story, and hopefully a version of Naraku's through it, a chance. Just a small chapter to start things off but they will not all be this size.

_As much as I would love to admit it, these characters aren't mine. Acknowledgement goes to Rumiko Takahashi for creating a world with a certain red-eyed hanyou._

* * *

><p>The Victorious.<p>

Preface - Last Thoughts

When the _hanyou_ Naraku that had been plaguing the land of the rising sun for the last two years was dying, two thoughts filled his mind.

One, how cruel fate had been to him; that, even though he had held the Shikon Jewel in his hands for more than enough time to make a wish, his one desire was unattainable. Images of Kikyou fluttered through his mind unbidden; Naraku killed them with pained resolve. Never again.

And two, how history would tell his story. Time slowed down as the entity known as Naraku closed his eyes for the final time. Yes, he mused, his side of the story would probably never be told. His heart, that accursed organ, knew that many of the things he had done were evil, but it refused to believe that the darkness had consumed his entire being. Some things he had done purposefully however, half of his 'truly' evil acts had been conceived in ignorance. But, a sad smile lingered on his face, no one would ever know of that, for it was the victorious who told history and they were hardly ever reliable in the depictions of their enemies.

If he was lucky he would be hated. A curse upon households; if, at the least, a story to scare children who had disobeyed their parents. If he was unlucky he would be pitied, the very word caused him to mentally snarl. He had been pitied before by an angel who had come to him through the flames, clad in red and white and he had no want to ever be pitied again.

And then, it began. His mind snapped back. For the triumphant Inutaichi and others it passed in an instant. In one second he was there and the next he was purified. But, for Naraku, it was literally a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 1, The Stage

**AN **- Welcome to the first chapter of The Victorious! I will be your host for these voyages. I've decided to start off with Onigumo's past. He never really got one before his interferences with the Shikon Jewel. Don't worry, there will probably only be five of them before we meet Kikyou (might be less depending on how I feel) but, I think that he deserves a good back-story. People need to understand that no matter how terrible people become, no matter how many innocents murderers kill, that at one point they were children.

EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to thank Hagakure Productions! They've managed to awesomely sum up what was happening in this time period and a whole lot of historical references wouldn't have made it in here without them! I'll be using them as a reference from now on so, if you're interested in where I get my information go to hagakureproductions(dot)tripod(dot)com !

So without further ado, I present;

* * *

><p>Chapter One - The Stage<p>

The flashback started over 70 years ago. Naraku had no wish to relive these pathetic memories but, something akin to reminiscence took over his human heart and Naraku was forced to watch the childhood of the thief to be known as Onigumo.

To a poor family in a village with just enough food to eat, often less, a baby had been born. Although this family had three girls, called Junko, Yuri and Tsubame they had no sons. So, when their first son born to them was their fourth child they were understandably upset. Spurned by this bad timing they went and saw the village miko to bless their child. She was the only one who had the skills and position to offer them any condolences and to promise impossible things. Unfortunately, the elderly woman who was not far from death turned them away from her house; all but sealing the treatment the first son would receive for most of his childhood.

His mother had a sharp tongue and his father, a hard hand. The grandfather, who had been very old when the boy was born, died shortly after his birth; more bad timing on his part, for how could the mother and father expect to raise a family on their own?* For this series of events each parent blamed the other. His father blamed his wife for her drinking; his mother blamed her husband for his gambling. But, however much they argued, it was impossible to deny that their first son was their fourth child.

Ichirou**, as he had been called to throw nosy strangers off the trail, led a life similar to thousands of others during his time. There seemed to never be enough food to feed his siblings and he, never mind his parents. They lived in a hut barely big enough to fit them all; Ichirou quickly had to deal with some of the more, mature, facts of life. He had no schooling, could not read or write and occasionally worked with his father on their crops that would only just get them through winter.

After Ichirou had come two other children and then no more had followed. Daiki was the son who came immediately after Ichirou; he was everything their parents had asked for and the exact opposite of Ichirou. Whilst Ichirou preferred to stay quiet and observe Daiki shouted and talked of things he knew nothing about. Daiki took after their mother, with a short, burly build while Ichirou took after their father, tall and thin.

Around them Daiki spoke formally, always enunciating and pronouncing his words to a perfection only found in a backwater village. It made Ichirou's fingers twitch, to do what, he could never guess. With the gift of foresight Naraku likened it to the same anticipation he got when seeing an enemy walk into a trap. Ichirou couldn't comprehend how his parents could _not _see how Daiki looked to others; pig-headed and arrogant around the other children and full of air in front of the adults. Yet their parents encouraged him like the heathens they were, seeing their second son as sensible and ambitious rather than proud and foolish.

Hitomi came after Daiki, she wasn't like her brother, Ichirou found himself doting on her before he had even realised what he was doing. His parents had tempered with the idea of exposing her before her birth; she was another hungry mouth to feed. Ichirou had heard his mother tell his father many times that food was scarce for them at the moment, how did they expect to raise another child?

But, when Hitomi had opened her eyes, something had changed. Her right eye was a pale, milky blue, hinting at her disability while her left was a pale brown. Their mother had muttered, "Hitomi," and that was all it took for her to be accepted.

Still, she did not receive the attention that Ichirou thought she deserved. When she was given attention it was, of course, secondary and still not good enough. He was three years older than her and he was the one who gave her half of his portions, he was the one that changed her under-clothes as a baby and he that made sure that when introduced to people that they were standing on her left.

His other three sisters had begun to move on to find more prosperous things. Junko, the eldest had been thrown out of the family at a marriageable age. All he could piece together was that the other three were not to go and get pregnant by a poor, married man. If they were to be an adulteress they had better do it with a rich man who could afford a concubine, or at least rich enough to give their partner some money to support themselves. Yuri was married to a man around their consequence who lived in the village next to theirs when Ichirou had been five. That left Tsubame, as quiet and meek as her namesake who had been betrothed to a son of their father's friend, for love of course. There were hardly any marriages not for love, unless a child was being expected.

So, Ichirou grew up knowing he was an unlucky first son, hardly knowing two of his elder sisters while the other closed herself off from her family as she inched closer and closer to the marriageable age. He grew up with a younger brother he hated and a little sister he loved. And at the ripe age of ten, Ichirou began to take his first steps onto the path that fate provided him.

He already believed himself vastly superior to the swarm of ignorant village children. The only person he hung out with was his sister. The little girl, eager to impress her standoffish brother had isolated herself. The disapproving looks he had given her with other children from afar were enough; she remained by his side always. Ichirou's reasoning was simple; like his brother they seemed full of self-worth pushed on by their parents, but Ichirou reckoned that he knew better.

He had seen the occasional samurai or noble passing through their village, watched keenly as they laughed behind silken sleeves and scented fans; watched as they mocked things lower than them and gasped in wonder as a child as young as five began to swear in language half of them had never heard before. It was during one of those impromptu travellers that Ichirou found his calling in life, stealing.

Ichirou had been loitering in the main street with Hitomi, playing a nonsense game where they tried to knock the other's pebble out of a circle drawn in the dirt. Daiki had deemed such an activity above someone of his nature and had instead gone off with other children to play games of tag and hide and seek. It was a cool, autumn day; not hot enough for the village children as a whole to run to the nearby lake and swim but not cold enough for parents to banish their children to their family hut.

Hitomi had been using three pebbles in the game; smooth and soft river stones she had found during their travels in the forest during the hot summer months, against their parent's permission of course. The forest was a dangerous place full of _youkai_ and wild beasts, no place for children. However, almost lured by this warning, Ichirou and Hitomi spent most of their time in the forest's bosom; no _youkai_ had attacked the little village in two years, there wasn't much to gain by it. The little girl treasured these stones she had found with her brother, which was why when she used them for their game it surprised her older brother.

"Why are you using your precious stones?" he had asked, content with using pebbles he had found on the street. After all, once they had finished he could leave them on the street without worry.

Hitomi had grinned her smile that had no restrictions. "It's for luck onii-san!" She then proceeded to hold her own against him in their game. They had played like that for a while; Ichirou had glared daggers at anyone who came close enough to spoil their game with a stray foot while Hitomi lightened his anger every time their circle was erased with a laugh which had not known fear or pain.

Ichirou had heard from the town's grapevine that a particularly wealthy merchant had stayed the night at the head's house. He knew this especially well because his father had come home very angry. The head had taken a little out of everyone's crop to feed said merchant. This tiny amount had been enough, his father exaggerated, to feed Ichirou and Hitomi one full meal. That had the first son's head turning. His stomach was always grumbling and he knew that when he hit his growth spurt it would only get worse.

His father had once threatened to give up his crop and instead sign up for wages working for their _daimyo_ as an _ashigaru***_. His wife had then beaten him on the head with her spoon; how could he trust a man who wasn't part of their family to give them enough money and _koku _to feed them? It was better to grow your own crops, she reasoned.

But, out on the main street at just before noon was the last place Ichirou expected said merchant and his lady, in a carriage driven by a horse, to be travelling. It was getting to the hottest part of the day, and by the way previous nobles or those of upper class had drowned themselves in perfumes during this time, the hottest part wasn't the nicest part of the day to be travelling in, especially when the stink from the common folk seemed to intensify.

Ichirou focused on observing the merchant, trying to find even more ways in which they were superior to the mere villagers. That way, one day, he would be able to mimic them when he made his money big.

The merchant's hair had been pulled back and shaved into an overly oiled _chonmage_; his high-quality, red _kosode _hung loosely around his neck, stained in the armpits and around the neckline from sweat. Ichirou's black eyes narrowed at the sight. The merchant, though dressed in good clothing, seemed to take little care in his appearance. Ichirou turned his attention instead to the brown gelding the man was riding on. Its trot was uneven and light, Ichirou let himself chuckle at its disobedient behaviour.

Onigumo cried out within Naraku. The force of his regret was so strong Naraku choked on the emotion. He hadn't been paying attention, that's why it happened. He and he alone was the only one whom he could blame for getting rid of that carefree side of his sister, the cheerful eyes, the wide smile. It was his fault that she left him.

Hitomi bounced one of her precious stones on one of his pebbles and it in turned flew into the middle of the street. Ichirou could only watch, too stunned to do anything as the merchant continued on his way, unaware that a certain peasant girl was blind to his side of the world. Hitomi unknowingly caused the gelding to rear up, it was a skittish horse by nature and the tight streets already had it in jitters. As the merchant tried to control his steed the carriage driver pulled his beast back sharply, which made the merchant's heavily pregnant wife call out in surprise as she was jerked forward.

"Insolent peasant!" The merchant hopped down off his still panicking beast and marched over to Ichirou's startled sister, who had heard the sounds of confusion and had stared in wonder at the chaos she had caused. He raised his riding whip and even as Ichirou ran to his sister, the first blow fell backhand to the right side of her face.

"Stop!" Ichirou called out, protectively standing in front of his sister as another blow landed across his chest, not aimed at the right height for the tall-for-his-age boy. As the merchant's face turned a progressively deeper red Ichirou babbled to explain his sister. "Please, good sir, my foolish little sister is blind in her right eye, she meant you no harm."

"Insufferable fool!" The merchant spat at him, revealing yellowed teeth. "Get out of the way!" Ichirou shook his head and winced as the first blow from an expensive riding whip fell on his chest. There were two more, one to his chest again and one to his face before a concerned feminine voice coming from the carriage all but physically dragged the merchant away from the siblings.

Ichirou knelt down and made sure Hitomi was all right. Her eyes were wide and she nodded without any focus. Ichirou put an arm around his sister, keeping his body between her and the merchant as the former checked on his wife and then made his way past the two children; sneering down on them from his superior position and making a show about folding his arms inside his voluptuous sleeves. Ichirou raised his chin and rolled his shoulders subconsciously, hating the fact that his family could only afford to buy a _kosode _without sleeves for a rapidly growing boy.

When the merchant was gone Ichirou and Hitomi had returned to their game. However, Hitomi seemed more sombre. She no longer laughed at nothing and remained silent as the circle they threw their pebbles into was erased surely but slowly by the people of the village.

And so Ichirou found hate, contempt and jealousy bubble up within him and, though not unfamiliar with these emotions due to his younger brother, he decided to use the sheer strength of them to seek some semblance of revenge.

* * *

><p>It was that following night his plan hatched. During his ten years of existence, and the later five, Ichirou had taken up the habit of following travellers as they left his village. Sure, when he had been younger occasionally he had been spotted and had had to run away before the accusations of theft or scouting for others had been voiced by angry parties. But it had been a long time since he had allowed himself to be seen by those he tracked. The last time he had been caught was when he had been seven and that was only because he had been following an ex-samurai who had been expecting an assassin around every corner, searching for him in retribution of his desertion.<p>

Ichirou knew that from the look of their clothes that they were from the East. After he had ushered Hitomi back to their hut and left, muttering some excuse concerning water to deaf ears. Hitomi stared at the floor, at her hands, at ants crawling across the floor; anywhere but Ichirou. That had settled his black mood.

Ichirou had raced along unknown forest paths heading towards the merchant's original location, darting back to the main road occasionally to keep track of their position. After twenty minutes of stealthy running he checked the main road and was pleased to finally find himself ahead of the two sets of hoof-prints and wagon marks.

Looking over his shoulder in a burst of paranoia Ichirou then reached into his _kosode_ and pulled out a wad of fabric containing small, sharp stones. Each was the size of an arrow-head, long enough for his plan to work. Without mercy the boy, only ten years old, scattered the sharp implements over the left side of the path, where the horses had consistently stuck to. The _hanyou_-to-be then backed up to the bordering forest, destroying his footprints with practised efficiency.

The forest was settling into its night-time routine. Ichirou listened as cicadas' noisy plights began to melt to chirruping of crickets and as bird's songs were replaced with owl hoots and rodents' squeaks. He waited silently and with the patience of a hunter waiting for its prey to spring a trap. He didn't have to wait long. A horse's shriek poured into the landscape and the young boy opened his black eyes. A smile crept over his face as a nasally voice caused birds around him to take off in flight. Ichirou inched closer to find a place to peek at the scene in front of him.

The merchant was swearing, having hopped off his horse, at the sharp stones he found covering the ground. He ordered the man driving the carriage to stop, find the stones and remove them. Ichirou's grin grew wider as the merchant walked over to his steed and ran his hand along the back of the right foreleg. Training took over and the brown gelding raised its hoof into its master's waiting hands. A sour expression clouded his face as he assessed the damage himself, seeing blood from a puncture.

"Jun!" The merchant called. The carriage driver, still picking up the sharp stones with care immediately came to the merchant's aid. Jun lifted the horse's foot in the same careful manner and, pulling a cleaning implement from his back pocket, began to clear away the muck that had gathered there.

"Oji, the horse is lame." Jun's uncle, the merchant, swore more colourfully than what Ichirou would have expected from a wealthy person. "It'll take around two weeks, one week if we're lucky, before you can ride it again. If the wound gets infected-"

"I know!" The uncle hissed, running a hand on top of the shaved section of his hair. "Crap," he continued in a lower voice, Ichirou had to move forward to hear. "Shika is due to give birth to our first child very soon. I should have left her at home!"

Ichirou zoned out of the conversation and watched. There was a lot of arguing in hushed tones before the merchant disposed of the sharp stones. He stayed seated on the coach's seat of the carriage as his nephew did the hard work. Jun unsaddled the gelding, cleaned its foot and changed its bridle to a lead-rope, hooking the end through a loop on the back of the carriage.

They travelled only a little ways, into a clearing Ichirou had been familiar with for half his life. Once there Jun set up a fire and cooked food while the merchant helped his wife, Shika, get the carriage ready for bed. Ichirou climbed a tree then inched his way across a branch that overhung the glade and, when Jun went to fetch his night-time supplies, unwound a roll of string so it hung over the pot where their soup was being prepared.

Once it hung over their dinner Ichirou took out a small parcel from a handmade pocket on the inside of his _kosode_. The pulverised kesso root was added inconspicuously, drop by drop, to the still heating soup via the string. When he was sure he had added enough to put his plan into action Ichirou retracted his means of drugging by winding the string around a stick and folding up and concealing the satchel containing the essence of the root.

Ichirou shimmied down the branch and rested in its fork, absent-mindedly chewing on some mint leaves as he observed the trio around their campsite. When everyone partook in a second helping of soup Ichirou couldn't help but smirk. After fifteen or so minutes Shika retired to the carriage, leaving the two men to discuss how they would make their way to their desired location. A short half-hour after they had eaten both men complained of sleepiness; the merchant retired to his wife while his nephew curled up besides the fire and was quickly asleep. Ichirou waited another half-hour then climbed down from his perch.

He was... calm. Ichirou felt more focused and steady than he had ever felt before. Unlike being put on the spot about farming techniques, about relationships within the town, no adrenaline rushed through his veins, no sweat made his hands slippery. His task was simple and he was confident in his sleeping drug and his own skills. Ichirou made to the back of the carriage, where the possessions were stored.

The boy fumbled through the belongings and analytically took what he thought would be enough in retribution. Unfortunately the more expensive items were within the carriage, Ichirou didn't want to take a risk like that but, what was inside this storage area was enough.

It turned out that the merchant made money by importing clothes of mid-high quality. Ichirou took a purple and blue striped boys _kosode_ and a pair of blue _hakama_ for himself (though they were larger than he, he reasoned that, when he was older he would grow into them), some rice and a _kimono_. The _kimono _was relatively simple; with help from the glowing embers of the campfire Ichirou could tell that it was a sky blue fabric with green and brown butterflies flying within it. He decided to take it for Hitomi; she would be able to wear it freely and without suspicion when Ichirou had enough money to make them rich.

With the clothes tied firmly to his back and the rice sack by the edge of the road Ichirou finished his vendetta. He bundled the remaining clothes up in his arms and stirred them calmly into the now alive fire. Once he was sure that the merchant's wares were thoroughly destroyed the ten year old boy, full of self-pride and high on revenge, walked parallel to the main road, whistling a victorious tune. He had started a fire inside of himself and he would do anything to keep it stoked.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>  
>*In Sengoku Jidai parent's weren't expected to raise a family on their own, the grandparents would help out as well.<br>**Because really guys, who would call their son Spider Demon?  
>***Basic equivalent of a foot-soldier. It wasn't uncommon for peasants to sign up and join their lord's army.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2, The Venturer

AN Thank you to all who ninja-read and especially to those who've reviewed. Not much to say here, unless I have a specific point to make this will basically be it for the author notes. Next week's update (since yes, this is me trying to write a new chapter weekly) might be a bit late, since I'm going away for three days half-way through this week. PM me or review if you have questions so far.

* * *

><p>Chapter Two - The Venturer<p>

It was early spring in Ichirou's sixteenth year when the young boy decided he had had enough. A great deal many of things had been getting under his skin for quite a while and he could not put up with it any longer. For Instance, Daiki, though there was hardly enough food for their family of five (Tsubame had since been married and now lived with her groom's family) had become plump and lazy, whilst excreting an air of elegance and superiority. Ichirou knew that his brother had no reason to behave this way; he was in no way as superior as Ichirou was.

Hungry for both the thrill of stealing and knowledge, he had obtained books from his prey. With the help of one older-sister now married in a family of semi-literates Ichirou had started to learn the mastery of words. The spidery strokes of nonsense began to take a beauty and formed themselves into portraits of intelligence. Hitomi, having followed him into the glade where he kept his bounty, had meekly asked if she could be taught. When he had agreed to share his knowledge with her she had acted surprised, as if she expected him to refuse her the right to learn letters for being a woman.

That was another thing that annoyed him. Hitomi had become subdued and depressed. The times when she used to laugh at nothing or speak out of turn where long-gone memories. Ever since that merchant had struck her, her view on the world had changed. Instead of giggling at passing warrior and their funny crescent moon helmets she instead waited until they were out of ear-shot to start her bitter comments.

"Do you see it, Ichirou?" Sitting on the edge of his family's hut Ichirou's mind snapped back to a few months prior. Their mother and father had given them the day off of helping them in the fields; the best entertainment, they had decided, was to watch everyone go on their ways. Wrapped up in two shawls and seated on the curb of the road they had huddled and observed.

"What should I see, little sister?" Ichirou was bored out of his mind; the near-bursting snow clouds huddling over their heads didn't help his mood. Everything his parents did had begun to lose their endearing charm and was instead becoming the stuff of nightmares. He was sick of it. His sister was sick of another thing altogether.

"See how the _samurai _navigates his purchases with Hiroushi-_san_? He pays no attention to what Hiroushi_-san_ asks for the price, he merely demands his price over and over again." Ichirou's eyes snapped to said rice-merchant, who seemed to be handing over a sack of rice to a _samurai_ dressed in casual armour, not without said _samurai _keeping a hand on the helm of his sword the entire time.

"Hitomi-chan, don't concern yourself with things like this." Ichirou sniffed and looked in another direction, catching the shaking of his little sister's head from the corner of his eye.

"I can't help myself _onii-san!_ It's all I can ever see." Hitomi slunk down in defeat, resting her head in her arms which sat upon her knees. "I just wish I could help change it. But, every time I try and do something or say something I become scared again and stay quiet."

"Hitomi-"

"See, I want to be able to go up to that arrogant jerk and tell him to stop bullying us _heimen* _but at that thought I get too frightened and I become paralysed with fear. I'm worthless..." The girl shook her head before abruptly standing up. Ichirou followed her example, though slower in his ascent.

"What is it?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was so big, the top of her head reached his chin, he missed the days when he could cover her in his arms and shield her from the world.

"I want to go home. I'm tired _onii-san_. Let's go home." Unsure of how to deal with her sudden mood change Ichirou nodded and, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he escorted them back to their hut. Once there Hitomi slunk out of his grasp, curled up on her _futon_ and remained still.

Everyday had been like that to some degree. Occasionally she'd get better, especially when she came out into the forest. But, whenever they returned to the village the energy drained out of her and she merely tiptoed over to her bed and slept away the sunshine.

Ichirou was annoyed with his sister. She did nothing all day and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that part of it was his fault; he hadn't been able to make her happy. To her, he was a reminder of the helplessness of the world. He had tried to explain her but in the end he also got punished. Ichirou knew that when he had made his money he could lock his sister up from the worries of the world and make her happy, so, his problem was, making his money.

There was no way he would be able to make enough money as a farmer_; _their family proved that well enough. During the night someone's stomach was always growling, though it was never Daiki's. And as he had nothing to sell there was only one way he would be able to make his money; through theft.

That was where he was now. Night was approaching; he couldn't hold it off for much longer. His mother and father knew something was up, Hitomi had earlier asked him on behalf of them to come inside and join them for dinner. He had refused and continued brooding. But, he had procrastinated long enough. With a slightly shaky inhale Ichirou stood up, wiped his hands on his legs and entered his family's hut.

It was dark inside, only glowing embers illuminated the faces of his sister, mother, father and brother, all sitting facing him in the _seiza _position. Ichirou mimicked them then bowed so his head touched the floor before righting himself.

"_Otou-san, Okaa-san,_" He bowed to each of them. His mother's face had a hidden joy; his father's a slight scowl. His father knew what was coming; his mother pushed her ideals onto him. "I ask for your blessing as I travel abroad to find my fortune." He bowed again, holding on for a couple of seconds to show what he thought would be the sought level of respect, then rose.

His mother's face was red. "Travelling? Why do you want to travel, your family is here!" His husband sent a glance her way and she remained quiet.

"Ichirou," his father's voice was deep, like Ichirou's hoped his would become, and full of emotion, which he wasn't too fond of. "you are my first son. I would not like for you to go wandering about the countryside, you do not have my permission to go."

Ichirou bowed once again. "_Otou-sama, _I am not asking you for your permission but for your blessing. This one will go whether or not he has your permission. Custom dictates that blessing should be given and so, I follow this custom." The son remained in his prostate position for a few seconds more before yet again rising.

Both of his parent's faces were dark. Daiki smirked and Hitomi's eyes gazed off into the distance. Ichirou's face was steady and wiped clean of emotion.

"Every year I will return to tell you of my news." he looked down at the ground. "So, I ask you again; please give me your blessing."

Father and son looked up simultaneously into each other's eyes.

"No."

"Very well."

Ichirou bowed once more, hating lowering himself before these heathens, then ascended and turned sharply on his heel. He all but stomped past the huts that surrounded his family's, cutting through their land without a care. All he wanted was to get away from this suffocating village and into the forest, where he would leave from. Just as he entered the tree line a small hand tugged on his own. Ichirou turned around to find Hitomi, tears streaming down her face.

"Promise me," her voice was little more than sobs. "Promise me that you'll come back."

"Of course."

Hitomi sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve then turned back to her brother. She turned his hand over so his palm was up and dropped a tiny, white pebble into it. "It's for luck," she whispered. Ichirou stared at her face, absorbing her angles, the exact shade of her eyes, the way her hair fell. Hitomi pulled him into a hug, kissed his cheek then ran away back to the callings of their parents. Ichirou stood there, stunned for a moment, before he continued onto his forest clearing.

The young adult put on the purple _kosode_ and blue _hakama _that had been his first steal all those years ago. Although he had, as he had predicted, had a growth spurt that made him overshadow most of his peers the clothing was made for someone of wider birth. They needed a little tightening but that was about it. He took with him a cloak, some food and tied a string of coins so they hung inside his _hakama_, by his left hip.

Ichirou left out the _kimono _he had hidden from Hitomi with a note in simple Japanese, stating that it was a gift to her. And so, without further ado the boy took his first real steps to maturity.

* * *

><p>It took him two hours bound in a hut in the middle of a forest said to have <em>youkai <em>for Ichirou to realise that he was knee-deep in shit. So far it had turned out that thieves _weren't _the nicest of people. After having joined a band of rogues for two weeks Ichirou realised they were greedy, petty and uncouth. He had decided to solo it and become a one man team.

Which was what ultimately lead him here.

He once again struggled with the ties of fabric at his wrists and feet, wincing as he felt the rough material scratch his chaffed skin. The sense of unfairness rose up through him. But then again, he hadn't signed up for fairness had he?

Ichirou had spent the past year as more of a con artist than a robber. As a young boy and thus, not considered to be a serious threat, Ichirou had asked travellers if he could travel with them until the next town. He had gone by many aliases; Saburo, the son of a pig farmer, Tomi, a young man seeking a bride away from his home village, Ken, an orphan trying to make it to the next big town to find an apprenticeship. There were countless others, Ichirou found that he enjoyed the challenge of putting on a convincing persona.

For the first few days and nights Ichirou would be a charming young man, allowing his victims to trust Chikao the servant or whomever he was at the moment. All the while Ichirou would study their behaviours, especially those concerning where they kept whatever valuables they had. Then, once Ichirou knew the locations of these items and was trusted by the family he would drug them, like he had the first time, with kesso root.

It was as he was rifling through the belongings of a well sponsored, yet small musical troupe when the band of thieves pounced them. He had convinced them to give the aspiring Makoto a chance to learn how to play the _shinobue._ After all, his mother who had always been a fan of _Noh _and had always expressed hopes that her youngest son would play the flute in productions, before she had died from a long-term sickness.

Having already seen the wealth of the musicians as they did an impromptu performance in a fishing town the bandits had scoped them out. Ichirou had, similarly, been drawn into their fortune at a town they had performed in prior to that one. It was hard not for any thieves to be attracted to these performers. For one, they were wealthy, but not rich enough to hire guards. Ichirou had mused during the second night of his stay that they would pay less on their costumes and more on their safety after he had 'visited' them. They had quite the collection of silken gowns and costumes, as well as expensive makeup and well-made instruments. To the right people, he could make a good deal off of them.

Ichirou had already stuffed most of their high-quality makeup, a few well-made silken garments and had just started on the instruments when the sound of hoof-beats reached his ears. At first he had shaken it off as his mind playing tricks on him; he had to keep himself in shape didn't he? But, as excited hollers and the clinking of armour became distinct, Ichirou knew that he was in trouble.

* * *

><p>Zugai knew that something was up. Instead of startled musicians coming to beg he and his men for mercy all he found were groggy performers still half-asleep. '<em>Something is off...' <em>The leader, though not particularly bright, relied heavily on his instincts. Three of his men had already rounded up the half-slumbering artists and were shouting taunts and questions at them.

As Zugai approached them, his men quietened down. A young man, probably in his twenties, who seemed more awake than the rest had the audacity to question him.

"Where is Makoto-san? Was he your spy?" The word was spat out like a curse. With narrowed eyes Zugai motioned for the musicians to be tied up. As this was being carried out Zugai hopped down off his steed and made his way to the wagon which carried their supplies.

He had trained his men to take items only after he had inspected their catch, so he was surprised to see some items missing. It wasn't obvious, that was for sure, an empty space here, a _kimono _box with no dust put on top of a pile there, an open make-up drawer. If only he hadn't closed the still open box of flutes, if he had turned around and decided the crook gone, Ichirou would have been out of the line of fire. However, because the leader was close to the wagon and was still the small sound of Ichirou's sneeze carried to his ears. Zugai smirked, crouched down and grabbed the to-be-thief out by his ankles, putting a foot on top of his chest when the boy started struggling.

"Oi, what do we have here?" Zugai scowled down at the youth before him, arms crossed and chin raised. The boy was glaring daggers at the man, if he had been any sort of threat Zugai would have been chilled by the looks of murder he gave him.

"What is your name, boy?" The brat, though in no position to judge, sneered at the leader.

"Makoto."

"Did you steal from my catch?" Zugai leaned in close, breathing heavily on Ichirou's face.

"No, I haven't stolen anything." The boy's eyes darted to the bandits who were assaulting the musicians. Zugai didn't waver in his gaze, instead focusing on the youth. He seemed to be having trouble to stifle a smile; he was lying. Pissed that this brat had been planning to steal from what was rightfully his, he grabbed the boy's surprisingly soft hair and hauled him to the other captives, though he kicked his feet and dragged his body in the dirt behind him.

"So, you call this not stealing, huh?" Zugai threw the young adult into the horde of captives, only for him to stand up again and glare at the leader. Zugai snatched the satchel from the boy known as Makoto and tipped out the contents of the bag, watching the young man's face the entire time. He showed no signs of emotion, his face did not waver.

"I didn't steal that." The boy looked calm, far too calm for Zugai to believe him.

"Of course not." Zugai smiled, far too sweetly for Ichirou to believe in it.

A hand gesture was made from the leader before one of his men knocked the youth out cold.

* * *

><p>He had woken up not too long ago, finding his wrists bound he had done the natural thing; he had tried to squirm his way out of them. It only served to give him nasty friction burns and to lower his sense of hope. Whomever he had been captured by knew how to tie knots, and how to tie them tightly. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim lighting the overwhelming panic that had struck him at his first coherent thoughts began to mull.<p>

Ichirou moved himself over to a corner and crouched into the wooden walls, trying to calm his gasp-breaths. He might have dozed for an age, might have rested his eyes for a second; all Ichirou knew was that he next found himself staring into the dirty brown eyes of the man who had found him.

"So, the little thief has woken up." Ichirou wrinkled his nose at the man's rank breath, it smelled like salted meat and rotten fish. As he made to turn his head away calloused fingers grabbed his face, forcing his mouth to open from their positioning. "Oi, I'm talking to you, brat." Ichirou, heart hammering from the adrenaline forced into his system slowly turned his black eyes to brown.

The man smiled, revealing missing teeth Ichirou hadn't noticed earlier. "That's better. Now what's your name?"

"Makot-" Ichirou answered without hesitation yet it did not slow the slap that cut him off.

"Yes, I know who your cover was, I'm asking what your _true** _name is." The robber poked Ichirou in the chest, hard. A robber further in the hut and bulkier than the average-sized man interrogating him chuckled a little at the pun his leader had made.

Ichirou looked over at the door, a tantalising sliver of light revealing it was open. "Ichirou." he grumbled, furiously blushing as the thieves in front of him started laughing. He stared at the wall to his left in sudden fascination, counting the ridges in each plank with a calm consideration. When the laughter abruptly stopped Ichirou found his legs to be shaking from the stress of the moment.

"What a stupid name for a stupid brat." The interrogator's hand found its way to under Ichirou's jaw, once again forcibly turning his head to look at him. "Learn some manners," he drawled while patting the boy's cheek not-so-softly. "It's rude to look away when people talk to you."

Ichirou's nostrils flared but he said nothing in response, instead staring unflinchingly into the robber's eyes. The bandit nodded and replied with a laugh, "That's better now. It's a sad day when a brat like you doesn't have his robber's name."

The interrogator looked over his shoulder to the other man in the cramped hut. "What d'ya think, Shadow Ox?" The man called Shadow Ox shrugged and scratched his scalp absent-mindedly.

"See," the man in front of Ichirou turned back to face him. "he's Shadow Ox and I'm Zugai." Ichirou resisted the temptation to arch an eyebrow at the man who called himself skull and instead formulated a name in his mind, turning it over for a few tense seconds.

He mumbled incoherently under his breath.

"What?" Zugai leaned in close and sent a waft of his badly perfumed breath straight into Ichirou's mouth. The boy swallowed, forcing down the urge to throw up and repeated himself.

"Onigumo." The two men laughed again, but Ichirou paid them no mind. He liked this new name. It rolled naturally off his tongue. All his life he had hated his unoriginal name, a name his parent's had thrown together in contempt. With a steady breath the boy cast the name he had been born with away and embraced his new identity.

A strong hand throwing him onto his stomach literally shook him out of his wonderings. Looking over his shoulder Onigumo could see Zugai and Shadow Ox leering down on him.

"Little spider, you cannot be called a demon without a demon mark!" Zugai cut open the back of his shirt with a knife, the sudden onset of cold air at his back caused a shiver to pass through the young man. As his hands were untied, held tightly together then retied above his head Onigumo struggled to free himself anew. One of the robbers secured his hand bindings to a post that supported the hut while the other stepped outside and began making a fire. They both laughed at the way the would-be-thief around, helpless, like a fish out of water.

Onigumo waited there, body tense and sweating everywhere as the men prepared something he had no way of knowing about. When they came back all he could feel was pain as he stifled his screams. The two men were _carving _something into his back, in the haze of his agony and the sting of the fire everything else was a blur. He couldn't feel the blotch of a body and head and the paths of four symmetrical legs as they crept slowly but surely across his back.

Home. It was a word that had a vague notion about it; a place he would be welcomed to without worry, where he could rest and eat and relax without the worry of being caught. It was where summers were short and winters far too long. Where an annoying younger brother thought himself to be the best at everything and where a half-blind sister was waiting, full of long forgotten smiles and bitterness.

For Onigumo, returning home was nerve-wracking. After he had been caught by the bandits a year ago he had been too ashamed to return back deformed, not that he could if he tried. He had been left for dead outside of their territory. Onigumo had decided to cut his losses and live to fight another day. He had travelled as far as he could in the opposite direction. However, the wound had reopened constantly when he exercised so he had been forced to take sanctuary at a shrine when it festered.

That had wasted the better months of the second year of his campaign. The _miko _who tended to him was old and drained of life, she was a drag to be around and Onigumo had the feeling that she was used to taking care of the dead instead of the living. When he had finally been released from the elderly priestess' ministrations he had returned to where he had hidden the bounty he had collected that first year.

It was gone, all of it. He had been forced to steal more, which had delayed his home-coming. With enough money to buy a months' worth of rice, new clothing for himself and a scented fan for Hitomi, Onigumo had decided he had procrastinated long enough. It was time for him to keep the promise he had mostly made to his sister two years ago.

Walking into his village had a nostalgic, if he could call it that, feeling. Every twist and turn of the main road and the little side roads were ingrained in his memory, he doubted he could get lost if he tried. There, by the river was where the village children had bathed during summer. That tree was where Tsubame had often sought refuge, that curb where Daiki had twisted his ankle. But things were different too. Everyone seemed older, after staring for a few seconds he could piece together who they were but no one seemed to remember the first son and fourth child of a family.

Onigumo easily picked the way to his old hut, occasionally brushing the shoulders of some farmer in his haste. He was almost there, naught but ten metres away from his childhood home when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

An almost swollen looking face, dark brown eyes and messy hair donned this individual. "Ichirou-_nii-san_?" '_Daiki.' _

Onigumo nodded, hesitantly. The boy who had always thought himself noble and above displays of affection hugged his older brother for all his worth, long arms easily circling the thinner sibling's frame. Onigumo remained stock still, unsure of what to do. When his brother slapped him on the back a couple of times he couldn't hide his wince.

"What's wrong, have you hurt your back?" his brother, whom had never smiled at the boy Ichirou, was laughing in good nature, already steering him to the hut with an arm around his shoulder.

"You could say that," was Onigumo's meek reply. Daiki laughed and pushed aside the mat that acted as a door, beckoning his brother inside eagerly. Onigumo, not expecting this type of welcome, gulped and followed.

It was different in so many ways, yet still the same. It was such an onset of reminiscence that the thief thought that he might faint from it. He had slept by the East wall, Daiki by the West. Now there were only two sleeping mats on the floor, but both meant for two people. Daiki, seeing his brother's slightly confused look, elaborated.

"I'm married." He sheepishly grinned, scratched his head and sat down in front of the glowing embers of the fire. Onigumo, still taking everything in, sat down opposite his brother. Before he could ask the question burning in his mind Daiki interrupted him.

"You've grown your hair out. And you're so much taller than I remember."

"Daiki-"

"Have you finally decided to come back and live here?" The younger brother tossed a nearby log onto the fire. "Would you like some tea? Okoi should be home soon, she's out buying rice."

"Daiki, where is-"

"Tsubame has had a son and a girl, can you believe it?"

"Daiki! Shut up!" Said brother stopped his ramble at the rough, uncivilised edge that had come into his brother's voice. Onigumo ran a hand along the top of his head, brushing his bangs back.  
>"<em>Outoto<em>, where is Hitomi?"

Daiki blinked in surprise, as if the thought had just come across his mind. "Brother, she is married."

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>

* the common people. While not an entirely separate class they were part of the _buke, _the military government, and were higher than them.

** Makoto means sincerity


	4. Chapter 3, Betrayal

**AN** Sorry for the wait, wasn't able to update this chapter on time since I was away for three nights last week. This chapter is rather... flash-backy. Sorry if you guys don't like that much but I prefer showing events rather than telling them, which you're supposed to do anyway. Also angst. Oh the angst. I do realise that I tend to skim over things and tell what has happened before a new scene but I do so because that way I can get the boring parts out of the way and move onto the main plot. Does this annoy you, readers? Now, enough from me, onto the main act!

* * *

><p>Chapter Three - Betrayal<p>

_It was autumn, the year before Ichirou left to chase after his dream. The trees were turning golden and brown and in his forest sanctuary the teenager sat on a boulder, peering down at a scroll, trying to get the scribbles there to make some form of semblance in his mind._

_"Onii-san!" Ichirou was rudely pulled away from his studies by one younger sister, having just entered the clearing. She wasn't wearing shoes, her feet were dirty, fallen leaves poked out of her hair. Her eyes were red and her chest heaved; she was a mess and out of breath. "I don't want to get married!" The girl ran to her older brother and pounced him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle before crying overtook her. _

_Ichirou, trying to breathe and comprehend his little sister's sudden swell of emotions blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Married? What are you talking about?" _

_Hitomi looked up from his chest, lip trembling and tears flowing freely from her mismatched eyes. "I heard mother saying how I was getting to that age and that all my sisters had been getting motherly near my age and how I have shown no interest in boys then she began going through a list of the boys in the village and-"_

_"Hitomi, calm down." Ichirou sat himself down on the rock and patted his knees. His sister, sobbing softly perched on her older brother, marginally relaxing as he rubbed her shoulders and hummed a song for her. _

_Her frantic inhales gradually became deeper and even and the sobs became less violent and less frequent. Under his ministrations her tensed up shoulder and neck muscles began to relax. _

_"You know how mother is Hitomi-chan," Ichirou smiled, though inside his insides were turned to mush with the idea that his sister might ever want to leave him. "She loves to meddle." Hitomi laughed a little at that, Ichirou took that as a good sign._

_"But I don't want to ever get married Ichirou." The older brother smiled, moving away from his younger sister's shoulders to her hair. It was pretty badly tangled up. _

_"One day you will," he declared, easing out a messy bit of her hair with practised ease. "All girls grow up and get married."_

_"I won't!" His sister shook her head with vigour, undoing all of his hard work. "Hitomi never wants to get married! I promise to always stay with my brother!"_

* * *

><p>As Onigumo stared into the still growing fire that scene replayed in his mind. How the autumn leaves that fell softly from the sky to get tangled in an unruly sister's hair mimicked the flames he was now looking into.<p>

"Ichirou?" That day her _kosode _was very simple, a simple white and yellow pattern.

"Is something wrong, older brother?" Her _mo-bakama _was a plain green; it offset the main pattern quite nicely.

"Oi! Ichirou!" Onigumo's eyes snapped from his daydream, pinning onto his younger brother's with deadly accuracy. Daiki, startled, stumbled back. His brother, though always antisocial had never scared the younger sibling with so much as a glance before.

"What happened, Daiki?" Onigumo asked, resisting the urge to crack his knuckles, his recent intimidation tactic.

As his younger brother described the happenings of that day Onigumo could see it clearly, as if he had seen but had forgotten about it for a very long time. It was late summer, the year he hadn't returned and when he was currently being tortured by a small band of rogues.

Hitomi had been lonely without her older brother, that much had been obvious. According to Daiki she had hardly left the hut; her skin, which had been quite dark for a woman, had become unnaturally pale. She hardly ate, hardly drank and she clung onto Daiki like a life-line.

It was because Ichirou hadn't returned, Daiki explained. Hitomi had waited out most of the summer in a half-awake anxiety attack. She attacked on whoever entered the hut like a starved animal, only to reject them when she didn't find a boy with black eyes and slightly wavy black hair. But, as summer ended she had receded into herself, bit by bit. Daiki said he had never seen her so bad.

She had refused to eat; Onigumo felt a flash of regret. She had slept the day away, Onigumo felt inclinations of guilt. She had married someone; Onigumo was stabbed in the back.

Daiki explained, pausing to introduce Onigumo to his wife, that it had been a stranger that had decided to marry their sister. Onigumo had shaken off the thin stump of a woman his brother called Okoi, ignoring her attempts to veer the conversation away from a sister she had only briefly known.

As Daiki continued weaving his tale Onigumo could see everything. A hot summer's day, a travelling young noble, a younger sister trailing behind an older brother. He saw with his own eyes as he stared into the central fire. She stumbled along in front of his horse, causing the beast to rear up and unseat its rider with a thump. He observed as Hitomi waited for punishment to be given, bored of dullness and wanting to feel something other than grief.

Then, his eyes widened in amazement as the young noble laughed and wiped off his pants, bowing to the farmer girl in apology as she stared at him, uncomprehending. He excused himself for not keeping better control of his animal and for not watching out for his surroundings. Onigumo could only gape with his sister as the would-be-suitor gave her a sakura flavoured delicacy, could only look on with shock as the fog cleared from his sister's eyes.

_"Hitomi never wants to get married!" _

Some part of him realised that that was a foolish thing for a boy to latch on to. It was a stupid promise for a girl who had never been in love to make. She had slandered that promise as her eyes rose to slowly meet those of her to-be-husband.

_"I promise to always stay with my brother!"_

A true case of 'love at first sight' she forgot a brother who might be dead, who might never come back. Onigumo realised as the heat of the first burned his eyes that she had forsaken him as he had forsaken her. He hadn't returned, she had moved on. It was only natural.

But why did she _leave him?_

* * *

><p>Autumn heightened the feelings growing inside of Onigumo. It was a season when leaves fell from trees in furies, colours of fire and earth. It was the season when things started dying and the warm bliss began to be replaced with a chilling numb. The leaves, he thought, as they floated to the ground in their beautiful death, were possibly his favourite part to the season. Onigumo almost sighed as he dragged his rake across the ground of the garden, fixing perfection, as he put it.<p>

Tracking down the family had been the hard part, but once he had their last name it was merely a matter of asking around. Oddly enough, the clan his sister had married into took after her own name; Hitomi. Hitomi no Hitomi was what she was formally called, Onigumo would have found it humorous if he hadn't known her.

Getting a job was easy enough, he merely asked for anything to do, since Ishio, his current persona, was pretty desperate. Saving up for money to buy rare medicine to heal a sick parent made him that way, of course. Onigumo had almost expected to be refused but had instead managed to get a job as an all-around servant. He wasn't trusted enough to be a chef or a personal servant so he was the one who did the odd-jobs.

He did all the things the servants who had been there longer thought they might get away with giving to him. Was it beginning to look rainy, he had to fetch the clothes that were drying outside. If the gardener had a cold he had to rake the garden.

The tasks he was presented with were so below him that Onigumo did them without any extra effort in his own part. So what if he got told off and was never going to get anywhere on the servants' social hierarchy? He didn't need to make a good image of himself for a long time; he was only here to rescue his sister.

It was obvious to him that she had only agreed to getting married because he hadn't returned. Their parents probably forced her into an unhappy married life; not wanting an old maid hanging around their family. What did this lord have that Onigumo couldn't provide? He was sure that she had been forced into this marriage by their parents, perhaps they had arranged a _yobai* _with the young suitor?

Onigumo sighed and bundled up more of the fallen leaves, trying to get them all into a pile so that way he wouldn't have to make many trips to rid them. He couldn't change the past, he'd just have to try and fix it as best he could. And boy, did he have a lot to fix.

Hitomi, having just have delivered the lord's child, was due to come from her room any day now. He would see her, talk to her first. Onigumo would transform back to her older brother, being the shoulder she cried on and her rescuer from this world of closed doors and hidden meanings. Hitomi would be relieved, apologising profusely for ever doubting that he would survive.

Onigumo dropped his rake and picked up a bundle of leaves, savouring their musty scent. She had to have not wanted this, she would come with him and everything would go back to normal.

* * *

><p>Hitomi sighed and bounced her boy on her hip, smiling at his sleepy face and patting the down-like hair that topped his head. He was perfect. Unlike her family she had given birth to a son first of all and unlike she he was perfect. Kiyomori said that her eyes were what attracted him to her in the first place; she stood out from the crowd. But, as Hitomi had realised growing up, half-blindness was a bother.<p>

Being born a farmer and having no depth perception were apparently not a good match for the now-noble. While other ladies could at least apply their own make-up if needed Hitomi was useless. Mirrors made her confuse the way things should be going and trying to apply makeup with the right pressure was impossible. Servants were her only option.

Holding her son, Yoshiteru, for the first time had been, well, scary at first. He had been so small and she had been so tired. Hitomi had only held him for a few minutes before grudgingly giving him to his nurse, frightened into this act by the idea that she might drop him. Yoshiteru may have been purple and pruney but to his mother she thought that he was beautiful from the first second she laid eyes on him.

Kiyomori had come by to see his son after she had rested and had given her a deep kiss, right in front of the servants! Hitomi thought that she ought to have been embarrassed, but found that basking in her husband's love counteracted those emotions rather perfectly. Indeed, Hitomi thanked all the gods that she knew for letting her meet and marry her current husband. He was the second son to the reigning lord, but Hitomi wouldn't have had it any other way. The older brother was too scary for her tastes, all focused on war and conquest.

Hitomi paused her little hopping motions to run a finger down Yoshiteru's nose, awed by the softness and the healthy sheen of his skin. How she had gone into that dark place after his birth was anyone's guess. It was like her mood as a teenager, though completely different.

Worries of death or sickness of her baby had plagued her relentlessly and everything had been so hopeless for her to control. Kiyomori had persevered to help raise her dark mood but he hadn't been successful. Hitomi felt useless and needless as servants breastfed, changed and washed her joy.

This depression had only stopped when Kiyomori had taken drastic measures. He had pulled her to her feet, slapped her, and pushed her into a bath-house where ice-cold water was waiting for her. She had been washed till her skin was raw from scrubbing then wrapped in thick clothes.

Hitomi had been flabbergasted. Shivering and shocked she was surprised when Kiyomori's stern expression broke as his lip trembled before he pulled her into a tight embrace. Hitomi had blushed into his chest as he told her that he still loved her, would always love her. With a serious tone he had assured her that in the unlikely event of Yoshiteru's death he would mourn with her but, would prefer having more children instead of mulling about a future unlikely to happen.

Her blush had deepened then as she took on his meaning. Somewhere she realised she wasn't opposed to the idea, which reduced her to a blubbering streak of red. That had been enough to force her out of her depression. Though she loved Yoshiteru with all her heart she realised that she had servants to help her and in the worst case she could always have more children.

But, for now, Hitomi was happy taking her first steps outside with her baby boy on her hip. Of course, her servants accompanied her, but Hitomi had gradually learnt to push them out of her sphere of awareness. Which was why, when a young man raking the garden caught her attention, Hitomi was surprised.

He looked so _achingly _familiar. Yoshiteru dropped out of her notice for a few seconds and her physically aching abdomen was replaced with the feel of her chest tightening. Black hair, tied low to the base of the neck did little to hide the curl to it.

_'No.' _Her heart throbbed.

He was a tall and thin stick of a man, muscles lean rather than bulgy and fingers long and spindle like.

_'It can't be...' _Her limbs shook.

When black eyes rose to meet hers Hitomi almost dropped Yoshiteru.

_'Impossible.' _Her throat tightened.

He was dead. She knew he was dead. He was dead and that's why he never came back. He wasn't here right now; he hadn't come back a year ago. Why now? Where had he been? No, it wasn't him, because he was dead. She had told herself that he was dead. Daiki, mother, father, Tsubame, the village miko all said that he was dead so he had to be. He was dead, but that didn't stop the fact that he was here.

"Who... who are you?" she whispered, handing Yoshiteru to a suddenly anxious nurse. The man's finger's tightened around the rake, he stood straight. His eyes betrayed no emotion, which was how Hitomi knew she had been right.

"Ishio to some." The man, Hitomi refused to call him by _his _name until he confirmed it, pointedly looked to the maid on her left.

"Matsu, Go, would you please leave us; I would like to introduce myself to the new servant and get to know him." Hitomi put on a forced smile, trying to act nonchalant. The two maids nodded, having learnt long ago that their master's wife insisted upon knowing everyone's name. Go reached to her mistress and took Yoshiteru off her, knowing that he was getting hungry. As they turned around the smile dropped off of Hitomi's face. The servants retreated back to the garden porch but not any further; to allow her alone with a male servant would be scandalous in the least.

Hitomi, satisfied that they were out of hearing made a point of not turning to the man. "You are supposed to be dead."

He stiffened and leaned on his rake. "Ichirou did die last year, I call myself Onigumo now." Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. He was different, but, she supposed, so was she. He talked in less formal manner than he had before, but she could hint the slightest accent change; less back-water, more accurate in its carry out...

All she could do was whisper, "Why didn't you come back?" Her head lifted so she could look into his face. It was harsher. His chin stood out more; he had lost the baby-fat that had made his face look young. Hitomi did not like the slightly crazed gleam that came to his eye when he spoke next.

"I did. You were gone." Hitomi could feel the accusation in his voice. He ran a hand through his hair, obviously agitated. But, for once in her life she felt like standing up for herself.

"You promised you'd return in a year. What was I supposed to do, wait my life in that village, forever hoping you'd come back? I hated that place! Ever since that day the only reason I stayed there was because of you, when you didn't come back I lost all attachment." Hitomi fought to keep her emotions in check, tried to put a mask on her face like her brother had done. It wasn't working very well. Her lips trembled, her eyebrows tightened.

"You promised you'd stay by me!" he hissed, knuckles turning white. "I thought that would warrant more faith in you but obviously I was wrong." Ichi- no, Onigumo tapped his foot impatiently. Wherever he had gone to had shortened his temper. Hitomi blinked away the weakness in her attempt at an icy mask, turning her head suddenly in the hope that he wouldn't see the tears she had let escape.

Silence enveloped them. Hitomi took deep breaths, steadying herself and dabbed away at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, but not for everything." She had tried to be angry at him, tried to push him away; but it didn't work. She was his little sister and even if they had changed, it didn't stop the fact that she would keep on admiring him until the day she died. "I love my husband but, even so, I missed you."

The siblings stood apart from one another, Onigumo never having had liked touch whilst Hitomi didn't want awkward questions from her maids. All she knew was that she suddenly felt very relieved and very much wanted a hug.

"How long will you stay?" she asked, allowing a bubble of hope to rise slightly within her. She kept it on a leash though; her dreams surrounding Ichirou had crashed before, she wasn't willing to place the same trust in Onigumo.

"As long as it takes," Onigumo grinned, hands relaxing marginally from their perch on the rake.

Hitomi found herself suddenly elated. Her brother would stay! However, her feelings of happiness would have dissipated if she had the ability to read Onigumo's thoughts. He pushed forward his outward farce with darker thoughts in mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>  
>*Basically where the guy courting the woman would sleep with her to either ensure marriage or so they could find if they were sexually capable. Parents could be involved, often sleeping at a friend's hut when the <em>yobai <em>was due to occur. Many thanks to Hagakure Productions.


	5. Chapter 4, Blindman's Bluff

**AN **Onwards and upwards to a new chapter! I've tried to keep to my once-a-week update schedule that I wasn't sure was going to work in the first place and it seems my hypothesis has been correct. Fortnightly updates from now on. Also a bit of a warning, a dash of gore has been added as a little flavouring. Do I need to up the ranking?

**Warning: Gore**

* * *

><p>Chapter Four - Blind-man's Bluff<p>

Onigumo had a plan. It was only natural. He always had a main plan, a back-up, a back-up for his back-up and a last-resort. Though others might balk at his current plan Onigumo continued forward in grim determination. Hitomi was too deeply involved in the situation, both physically and emotionally, to realise what she really wanted.

The thief was only doing it for his younger sister.

Onigumo tensed up as he rounded the corner of the eastern hallway, only to see his sister in a many-layered gown. She blinked at him, paused in her step only slightly, before continuing on at her own pace, a maid following at a respectable distance behind her. The thief put on an icy mask and held back the nervous swallow that so wanted to come.

Hitomi walked past him with more grace he had ever seen her possess. Her head tilted slightly up, her hands folded neatly into her sleeves, Onigumo almost allowed a frown to overcome him. But, he had to act indifferent. Onigumo put on the facade of Ishio, nervously biting his lip as Hitomi approached him. At the last moment he went flush against the left side of the corridor. As his sister brushed against him he put a note, written that morning, into her sleeve as he mumbled an apology.

The maid glared at him but Onigumo brushed off her stare. He had caught the glance of understanding from his sister and that was enough. She would read the note and do as he asked; her slightly hopeful smile told him that.

Chikanobu was the perfect person to use for his plan. At thirty five years of age he was a respected general on the battlefield and worked for the Hitomi clan. Apparently he had returned to collect his men's wages from the family and to celebrate his success in capturing a small region. These details were inconsequential to Onigumo. He had another reason for using the general, and it had nothing to do with his skills on the battlefield.

Truly the gods were on his side. If the general weren't visiting his plan would not work. As Hitomi passed out of his sight Onigumo laid his head back on the wall to catch his breath. Never had he felt so excited or nervous. He felt a sudden rush of energy pound through his veins. His hands shook, his breathing was shallow. A dark smile passed his lips. Onigumo liked it.

* * *

><p>Hitomi stood underneath the Nippon Maple, hiding her twiddling hands within her voluptuous sleeves. The sun was going down, casting a reddish tint to the sky. She was half scared out of her mind, half nervous with the prospect of speaking to her brother again. It had been a few weeks since she had first met him, every time she had seen him around the castle she had put on nonchalant airs of refinement, even though her heart had pounded like a galloping horse.<p>

The young woman knew why he wanted to speak with her alone. Although she was slightly chatty to her servants Hitomi knew that suddenly going into a deep conversation with a male servant for no outward reason would earn her a few strange looks. This part of the garden was pretty much secluded; it was where Kiyomori often went to meditate. Before dinner no one was really out and about; the time was also perfect.

Hitomi hid a smile behind her fan, lightly cooling herself down. Yes, he was still the perfectionist brother she knew as a child; relying on precision to carry out his stratagems. She fingered the sleeve of one of her inner-layers. It was the _kimono _Ichirou had left for her when he left those years ago. The butterflies, though drab, where loved immensely by her. She had even commissioned a tailor to fix it so it was a dress for a married woman. It was probably fate that had her choose to wear this dress on this day.

That was how Onigumo found her, fanning herself lightly as she looked at her sleeves with a sad smile on her face. He coughed as he entered, causing Hitomi to jump a little.

"S-sorry brother, I didn't see you there," Hitomi stuttered, turning to face him.

"Here." She blinked as Onigumo closed the distance between them, placing a small, fuzzy fruit into her free hand. She looked up into his face as he gave a small smile, one she knew was equivalent to a beaming grin on some. "It's a bit soft but it's the best I could find so late in the season."

The little sister nodded at her older brother and took an eager bite. It was regrettably soft, but Hitomi ate it nonetheless. Its flesh was juicy but just past the peak of sweetness, it was almost sour. Once she had finished she tossed the pit into the garden.

Hitomi was about to clean her mouth with the edge of her sleeve when Onigumo bet her to the chase. She huffed as he wiped her mouth with a spare piece of cloth, tutting about her messy eating habits.

"You were the one who gave me the peach," she complained, pouting as he ruffled up her hair in a playful manner.

"You were the one who decided to wolf it down," he retorted, to which Hitomi could find no reply. She stuck out her tongue, he chuckled at her. Hitomi was about to comment on how much deeper his voice sounded compared to when he had been a boy but he beat her to the race.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you before." The woman's face mimicked Onigumo's suddenly serious tone. "I was..." He looked into her eyes for a moment. "hurt that you broke your promise."

"I..." Hitomi had no idea how to start. She paused, brows furrowing as she contemplated her answer. "I was hurt that you didn't return, but I'm glad now." She smiled at him, hoping to relieve his dark thoughts. "Now we can see each other every day."

"It's not the same, _imouto_." Onigumo reasoned, ruffling her hair once again in a brotherly manner. Hitomi rolled her eyes, "Are you sure you don't want to leave?"

Hitomi waited for a second then nodded. "I have a son and a husband now; I can't just leave them behind." She tried to look up into her brother's eyes but his face was turned away from her. Just as she was about to try and maneuverer to see his expression the dinner bell sounded throughout the castle.

"Ah, I've got to go," she mumbled, stopping her pilgrimage as she looked to her brother for acceptance. She could afford to be late to dinner if he wanted to talk some more. However, the dark-haired youth merely turned to his sister and shrugged, face his usual mask of indifference.

"I'll give you a note when I want to talk to you again." Hitomi grinned and was off to dinner, not bothering to look behind her to see what her brother did next.

To anyone besides Onigumo it was something of little importance. He merely walked over to where she dropped the peach pit and picked it up, turning it over in his hands before putting it in his pocket and walking calmly away.

Hitomi entered her chambers, taking off her outside shoes with practised ease as she crossed the threshold. Matsu, upon seeing her mistress, steered her away from where Kiyomori ate. Hitomi, confused by this action, watched in the mirror as her maid reapplied her make-up and straightened her hair, all the while with a look of disapproval on her face.

"If this lowly one might be allowed to ask, what have you been doing, milady?" Matsu addressed her in a whisper, eyes lowered respectfully.

Hitomi panicked, she couldn't just say that she'd been talking with her older brother in the gardens! "I was resting in the gardens. I guess I must have smudged my make-up," quavered her voice, betraying her nervousness. Hitomi stood up suddenly and made for where her dinner was to be served, effectively ending the conversation.

The fates had indeed intervened in some way, as it was Matsu's duty to take away the laundry from the inhabitants of the manor that night. Matsu was not unaware of the lack of lipstick on her mistress' sleeves as she took her clothes to be washed. Neither did she remain ignorant of the lipstick stains on a small square of cotton found in Chikanobu's clothes.

The next morning, as Onigumo collected his breakfast with the other servants at a godforsaken hour, he couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. Matsu was undoubtedly loyal to the Hitomi clan, but gossip was gossip and in a career that thrived on manual labour any rumour was good entertainment.

Telling Chikanobu that the garden was the most beautiful at sunset was another moment of brilliance. It had been noted by the servants and that was what Onigumo needed. So far everything was going according to plan.

* * *

><p>It was near the end of the general's time staying with the Hitomi clan. Hitomi found herself enjoying the rather raucous general's company, he was refreshingly blunt. In a world where everything you said had a double meaning it was a welcome change to have to deal with the young man who when he said he was hungry was actually hungry and was not trying to insult you in any way.<p>

The only way he was annoying would have been with his... innuendo. But then, it was easy to pick out. He didn't seem to be the sort who'd delight in tricking girls into saying a double entendre. The few times he had said anything that made her want to blush to her face it was easy to pick out, with heavily laced tones and waggling eyebrows.

Hitomi had been saddened by the prospect that the cheery general would leave their company. Onigumo's note had indeed perked up her mood when it came; she was excited to finally get a chance to talk to him again. She still remained obtuse to the rumours that were spreading around the castle; she found nothing odd in the way servants would quiet when she entered a room. Onigumo had counted on her blissful myopic outlook.

Hitomi had eagerly read through the note placed in the sleeve of her _kimono_. She wasn't sure how Onigumo had placed it in there, she hadn't remembered bumping into him all day but she took it in without missing a stride.

This was how she had ended up in the gardens again, this time late at night, waiting for her brother to show up so they could talk. Hitomi did have qualms about meeting up in the cover of darkness, it didn't feel right. She didn't have a choice however; she had no way of contacting Onigumo and if she missed their meeting... Hitomi didn't want to disappoint her brother further.

Her hair had been done up in an elaborate style, which was why when she felt her hair cascade down her back she immediately whipped around to find a sour faced Onigumo. She ran a hand through her hair, scalp suddenly feeling itchy as her hair relaxed naturally. She couldn't see Onigumo too clearly but she could see his basic shape as he moved towards her, the scowl on his face and the muscles in his arms were highlighted under the moon's light.

"Have you forgotten your upbringing, Hitomi-_chan_?" He circled her like a predator, moving from her left to her right, which she found intimidating; he'd disappear from her line of sight and she would panic.

"I haven't forgott-" Hitomi cringed as she felt his hands at her _obi_, untying the knot as she stood stock still. Her outer kimono fell to her feet.

"You think you are special? All dressed up in silks and layers?" Her heart pounded frantically against her ribcage.

"No," she gasped as he took off another layer, shivering from more than just the cold. "What are you-"

"I see you prancing around the halls with your maids and your son." Hitomi shivered as he loosened her last _obi_, though he stopped short of undoing it completely she could feel the two remaining, lighter layers loosening without the constraint of the knot to hold them in place. "Yet you have the audacity to say that now that I'm here we can see each other every day?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like tha-"

"Shut up." Hitomi flinched at the suddenly quiet command. She had expected him to shout, but his quiet words made her heart race faster than any all the screaming and shouting in the world. "I'll give you one more chance Hitomi." His breath tickled her ear, his deep voice seductively sweet. "Come away from this place, you don't belong here."

The young woman's heart was broken. Her brother asked one thing from her while her duty and love for her husband and son demanded another. She thought about it in earnest for a while, as Onigumo stopped his pacing to stand behind her.

"I... I can't." She loved her brother but he had left her. She couldn't forgive him for that. "Kiyomori brought me back to the world after you were gone..."

Onigumo sighed softly, it shattered the remnants of her heart to hear it. "I warned you, _imouto-chan_*, never forget that." His voice held the hint of a dark chuckle which made her skin crawl.

She didn't know how long she stood there, petrified and stock still, but it took her a while to realise that Onigumo had disappeared. With shaky hands she put on her outer layers once more, only managing a basic, loose knot to tie them together. Her mind could not comprehend what had happened, all she could do was run to her home, blushing from shame and embarrassment.

As Hitomi opened the _shoji _door that lead to her room she thought that, maybe, just maybe, she could forget all about this. Maybe her older brother would leave and then she could go back to her life with a smiling Kiyomori at her side and surrounded by swarms of children. However, as she turned the corner that lead to her bed she saw Matsu waiting for her, a candle by her side.

The old woman took on her mistress with stern eyes, hands clenching into fists as her eyes bored into Hitomi's body. Hitomi could see what the old woman saw. A young, foolish girl, her clothing not done up properly. Her hair, messed about with leaves in it, her cheeks slightly coloured. Her breaths that came in short pants and her eyes; wide, embarrassed and shocked.

Hitomi swallowed as Matsu rose to her feet and brushed past her shoulder, slamming the screen behind her open, and then closed. Hitomi collapsed onto her knees, sobs shaking her body.

"I..." she whispered to the darkness, though no other words followed.

* * *

><p>Ah, happy day! Hitomi would finally realise the error of her ways and Onigumo could lift the stab of betrayal that continuously pierced his heart. Yes, he held no pity, but in his eyes his younger sister deserved none.<p>

She had left him. And, he sadly had to admit, that it was his fault. _If_ _only _he had protected her better, than this wouldn't have happened. It all started when she got whipped by that merchant after all, she had said so herself. That would soon be put behind him; all his current wrongs were about to be righted.

Hitomi, his poor little sister. Onigumo frowned for only a moment as a sadistic smile spread across his face. She was old enough to have a husband and a child; she was old enough to face her punishments as an adult. After all, she was as old as he had been when he had left to become a thief.

Onigumo stood back in the crowd and watched, oddly detached from the proceedings that went about him on the platform that had been built for this occasion. Hitomi was wearing hardly anything compared to the layers upon layers she had been wearing up until recently.

Her top layer seemed so common. A faded baby blue base flecked with boring brown and green butterflies that haphazardly fluttered around. He could not remember it as the dress he had first stolen it for her, could not remember how he had thought that the simple colours brought out the colour of her eyes and how the butterflies, though simple, added an elegance to the _kimono. _All he could think about her dress was that it was suitable for her to wear on her execution.

Her eyes stared ahead blankly as the head of the clan read out her crime and her punishment. Onigumo paid no mind to the fate of Chikanobu, nor did he take any great pains to commit the speech given to his sister to memory. All he was focused on was how Hitomi sat, perfectly poised like a lady waiting for tea to serve.

Hungry dark eyes watched as the woman stood up, shuffled forward then kneeled down again. She took her hands and used them to separate her hair into two sections, baring the back of her neck.

He could see her shiver as the blade rested against her spine, could feel the tension that hung in the air as the executioner brought his sword back, then brought the blade forward again, and then again.

The screaming of her cartridge and bone as it was cut echoed throughout the courtyard. To Onigumo it seemed like it was a new bird's call, a beauty of nature. Then a thump, as her head rolled to the floor and then a greater thud as her body collapsed. He turned around, quite content to relive those few seconds. The way her blood splattered from her body, the way her body jerked then relaxed, all was ingrained on his memory.

They would hurry to gather up her body and cremate it now, Onigumo wanted to remember his sister just as she was as she died; with her hair rolling in blood and her face stern yet oddly serene in its contemplation.

However, he could only dwell on what had happened for so long. It was time to move onto fresher pastures. Onigumo went to his lodgings and packed up his meagre belongings. For mid-winter it was a rather nice day, he mused as he walked slowly on the road. With the sun on his back Onigumo followed the path fortune had laid out for him, towards becoming a bandit and meeting a man called Rasetsu.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>  
>*Apparently adding -chan to imouto makes it more condescending.<p> 


End file.
